


Realizations at the Close

by Magi_Silverwolf



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Discussions of Asexual Issues, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 22:09:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11815185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magi_Silverwolf/pseuds/Magi_Silverwolf
Summary: Dumbledore was wrong and Lily wasn't going to put up with this!





	Realizations at the Close

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.  
> Warnings: This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers.

-= LP =-

Realizations at the Close

-= LP =-

 _Though not the promised land,_  
Nor any perfect plan,  
Along our neutral path  
There was a single lowered branch.

–Sleeping at Last, “Resolve”

-= LP =-

 

No one really understood the words.

 

They were different for everyone and they _meant_ something different things for everyone. The only commonality seemed to be the words were always a place of some sort and some reference to a time. The format was not standard—some people had easily recognizable places like a city or pub but others had more vague things like _school_ or _work_ or _home_. Some people had exact digital times with indication of evening or morning; others had _morning_ or _twilight_ or _moonrise_. If that wasn’t frustrating enough, the event in question seemed to change as well. Some people died or gave birth (sometimes, it wasn’t even their first or last child); others created something revolutionary or met their childhood hero. A startling amount met their best friend or their future spouse.

 

But no one really understood the words. They just were.

 

The words were still considered private things, even if they were sometimes used as bragging points like Dudley’s _Buckingham Palace_ and _Tea_. Aunt Petunia made Harry cover his, even if his words made less sense than others he had seen. What kind of place was _The Close_? And even _Sunrise_ was kind of vague, because that varied greatly from month to month while _Tea_ was typically the same time for an individual person. Harry still wondered about his words—why were they important? What would happen that the Universe wanted him to know was coming to the point that it choose _those_ words for him?

 

That was the thing, wasn’t it? The words would only make sense in retrospect. It was only ever in looking back that one could see what must have always been there. It was inevitable, like gravity will always pull inward towards a center and the sun would rise every morning. Not really Fate, or Destiny, or Karma—just _reality_ , just the way things _were_.

 

It was like Harry was _not normal_ , a freak. It wasn’t because he was a wizard, either. If it was just that, then Harry wouldn’t be different from the other wizards and witches who also had magic. It was just the way that Harry was—he was _different_ , broken, probably defective even.

 

Everyone around him seemed to be wanting to do— _something_ , he wasn’t really sure what—with each other, especially as they all grew older. Meanwhile, Harry was just uncomfortably aware that he didn’t fit and there was a creepy madman after his death. He could look at someone and tell if they were pretty or handsome easily enough but whatever was driving Ron to suck face with Lavender every second they had free or had Ginny wanting to yank boys into broom closets?

 

That just wasn’t there for him and the awareness of it prickled along his skin sometimes.

 

He wished he had the same blasé opinion about his oddity that Luna displayed. Even as she and Neville seemed to be drifting into a more reserved version of whatever was going on with Ron and Lavender, Luna had no problem spending time with _him_ and despite the fact that Harry didn’t always understand what she said or why, Luna was never self-conscious about any of it. He could definitely see what Neville saw in her—she had this air about her that just…it wasn’t a _pull_ , and it was nothing like falling or sliding. It was like the sun coming out from clouds on a rainy day, warm and peaceful. He could see that Neville enjoyed it just as much, thriving in it like one of his plants.

 

Harry didn’t understand why Luna was crying when he found her a few days after the quidditch match. He supposed that he didn’t need to, not when he understood the glare that Neville was aiming at him as he comforted his girlfriend. He had always known that there was only ever a set amount of him that people could put up with—and Ginny _had just_ explained that maybe Neville and Luna wouldn’t want Harry intruding on their private time so much. So he backed off, even if he missed the quiet cuddles and soft conversations about anything that popped into any of their heads—even when Ginny’s insistence on dragging Harry into broom closets and doing _stuff_ made him want to claw his skin off sometimes.

 

It wasn’t anything specific, not good or bad.

 

It just _was_.

 

That stupid snitch with its stupid words taunted him for months. Dumbledore may or may not have known the effect his phrasing would have, but Harry couldn’t help that he hated the little toy at the same time he clenched at it, refusing to risk losing it. It wasn’t until he was walking to meet Voldemort that it all hit him. _I open at the close_. Harry took a moment to kick himself before he whispered the secret of his impending death to the ball, which promptly fell apart to reveal the last Hallow. As the first traces of dawn began to lighten the skin, Harry spun the stone three time.

 

“I don’t know how, but you’re even stupider than your father,” Lily snapped at him the moment she appeared. “Scratch that—I know exactly how, and I’m going to make her pay the moment I can get my hands on her. Harry James Potter, light of my life—If you walk into that clearing, and willfully negate every action I had ever taken to protect you, so help me I will find a way to turn you over my knee!”

 

“Mum—“

 

“Don’t you ‘mum’ me, mister!  No, don’t try to hush me, James,” Lily continued, batting at the ghostly figure that was now trying to soothe his agitated wife. To either side of them, Remus and Sirius watched as if the pair was the most fascinating show they had ever seen. “I’m his mother. I’m allowed to scold him when he’s acting like he doesn’t have half the brains I know for a fact that he has! He believes that—that—that _monster_ who openly admitted to plotting his death after setting him up an abusive household! I can’t let this continue!”

 

“Lily-flower, my precious one, maybe he’ll understand better if he wasn’t being called names or berated?”

 

“No use, Prongs, you know how she is when she gets into a snit,” Sirius snarked unhelpfully. “You should know by now that’s she’s a typical ginger.”

 

“And what is that supposed to mean, Sirius Black?” Lily asked in a dangerous tone. Sirius gave her a smile that would have been better at home on Snuffles’ face than the human one.

 

“Fiery temper and no soul, of course.”

 

“What your mother is trying to say,” Remus interrupted before the two could go at each other, “is that you’re not really a Horcrux because they are never made by accident. She is also very upset about your apparent willingness to toss away your life which is something that has been building for quite some time as she’s a bit obsessive about watching over you.”

 

“I’m not obsessive. I’m his mother.”

 

“…how obsessive are we talking about?”

 

“Enough that to want to strangle that little brat—“

 

“It’s not that—“

 

“Yes, it was, James! It really was! And if you try that stupid line one more time, I will be a widow twice over!”

 

“Um, not to interrupt or anything, but I really have no clue what you guys are talking about and I’m kind of on a tight schedule.”

 

“Harry, my darling boy, Dumbledore is lying out of his arse about why you’re connected to Voldemort and how to end that connection. So there’s no need to turn yourself over and every reason to march right back to the people who love you more than you can imagine, neither of which is that harridan who has absolutely no respect for your personal boundaries. Your Luna and Neville will be far better at explaining this, but it is perfectly alright to tell someone ‘no’ if you’re uncomfortable, for whatever reason, with something being done to your person.”

 

Harry could feel his face turning red. That did answer his question from before about how much she watched him. To make matters worse, his _mother_ had apparently picked up on what his _girlfriend_ hadn’t. He couldn’t very well turn himself over to Voldemort now—not when he’d spent his afterlife with his mother who had seen him making out with his girlfriend. This could not be happening.

 

“Is it possible to die from embarrassment?”

 

“Not in my experience,” Remus stated baldly. “I’d say that Sirius gave it a good shot, but since he’s absolutely shameless and always has been, I’d be forced to wager that he’s never truly felt that level of embarrassment. Now do us all a favor, and return to the castle. Find Luna—because she’s probably your safer bet once Neville figures out that you _lied outright_ to him about this harebrained scheme. Tell her to remember Dione’s last advice. She’ll understand and can explain things—probably without the arguing that these three are prone to doing when they get together.”

 

“And Harry?” his mother asked. She wasn’t glaring when he turned to look at her this time. Her face had a soft loving expression this time. “It’s _sunrise_.”

 

He blinked as the quartet faded into nothing. It all crashed over him, a wave that threatened to drown him and just as surprising as his mother’s immediate ire. Everything in his life had led to this moment. No one ever understood the word—just that they were important.

 

Apparently, Harry James Potter was important enough that the entire universe wanted him to realize the moment that he had to choose between life and death, between the duty to protect and the duty to sacrifice himself. He was at _The Close_ and it was _Sunrise_. He looked at the path before him, leading into the darkness with its waiting Dark Lord. He took a single step before Luna’s eyes staring at him from the shadows of the Malfoy dungeons flashed through his face. She had looked so broken to see him as a prisoner…how would his death affect her?

 

He was running back to the castle before he could think—back to Luna, and to Neville who would probably slug him and refuse to let him go. The leading edge of the dawn proceeded him, as if the love he now acknowledged was shining from him.

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was written for a challenge in the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments) on the FFN forum.  
> The Challenge Information:  
> House: Gryffindor  
> Claimed Pairing: Lunar Heroes (Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood/Harry Potter)  
> Day 12: A Place & Time are written upon your body  
> Extra Prompt[s]: n/a  
> Word Count: 1748


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